


Come And Get Me

by DenaCeleste



Series: Steter Porn Olympics [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Coercion, Crying During Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Felching, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Manhandling, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Pictures taken without permission, Rimming, Sex Magic, Werewolf lie detector
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/pseuds/DenaCeleste
Summary: An incubus attacks and Stiles is left to deal with the repercussions by himself. Or so he thinks, until Peter happens upon him and takes complete advantage of the situation.    “Shh, shh, you’re doing so well,” Peter whispered. Stiles thought he heard someone sobbing, and then tasted the bitter salt of his own tears. A sharp pain in the curve of his neck, hot and pointed, brought Stiles out of his haze. “Mine. All mine. Always wanted you. You know that, don’t you, clever boy?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on Twisted_Mind, who looked at the non-con/dub-con prompts list on Tumblr with me and asked, "How many do you think we can fit into one fic?" As I had been thinking _the exact same thing_ , we set our minds to the task of finding out. <3 
> 
> In addition to Twist polishing this with a thorough beta, other help in finishing this came from Mysenia (thanks for the writing sprint!), and the support of XCuteAsHale and the rest of Fandom Hell on Discord. (See end notes for the join link!)

“Shit, _shit_ , fucking incubi with their magic,” Stiles hissed as he made his way from the pack orgy that had begun to take place. People were pairing, tripling up, whatever worked, though Derek had run far and fast. Scott, Allison, and Isaac were coming together, then Erica and Boyd surrounded Lydia on all sides. 

Which, of course, left no one for Stiles, since no one responded to him. Not verbally, not physically, nothing. He even would’ve gone with Derek, pretty gladly, anything to get this itch out from under his skin. But no one wanted him, so he had to make his way through these godforsaken woods by himself. 

Typical, just typical. He was so distracted, Stiles didn’t notice the terrain change, and he tripped over a root. “Motherfucker!” he shouted, and slammed his hands into the dirt a few times for good measure. The fall would’ve hurt, except the pressure on his dick was incredible enough that he humped into moist earth like the pathetic loser he was. But he was alone, so what did it matter? 

“Well, isn’t this a pretty picture. Smile for the camera, darling.” The distinctive sound of a camera shutter clicked once, twice, three times, before Peter came closer. 

Stiles glared up at the man, but he couldn’t stop his hips from grinding. He was almost there, ecstasy just out of reach. “Fuck off and die.” 

Peter laughed and grabbed Stiles by the hair. Maybe he shouldn’t have grown it out, after all. Peter gave a solid yank that angled Stiles’ head back just a little too far. Stiles bared his teeth and gave a choked little gasp. Even with the twinges of discomfort, he was _so close_. Peter leaned down, and then whispered into his ear. 

“Come!” 

Stiles shut his eyes on a moan, but Peter tightened his grip. “Look at me when you come, slut.” 

His eyes snapped wide open, and locked onto Peter’s bright blue gaze. He flooded his shorts, coming and coming and it wouldn’t stop. Peter licked into his gaping mouth, and the taste was meaty, like he’d hunted down a deer before coming upon Stiles. 

“W-w-why?” Tears leaked down Stiles’ dirty face, dripping off of his chin, and Peter chased the drops. 

“Delicious. You’re so good, ripe for the taking, and I want you. Do I need more reason than that?” Peter lifted, and when Stiles left the ground, his hips jerked in the air, searching for more stimulation. “Mmph. Look at the mess you made, dirty boy.” 

Stiles growled, but when Peter let him go, his knees wobbled and he reached for the werewolf anyway. 

Of course Peter laughed at him, because he was a douchebag. “What? You don’t want my help?” He grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and started walking him backwards. “You don’t need me? Don’t need anyone?”

They stopped abruptly when tree bark dug into Stiles’ back, and Peter nosed his way up Stiles’ neck. “It sure seems like you could use a helping hand. You certainly weren’t fighting me back there.” 

“You think you’re special because, what, because I had an orgasm? You can do whatever you want to my body, but don’t you dare think it means you own me,” Stiles spat at him. “An incubus attacked. He’s still out there somewhere, but before he left, he dosed us with this special brand of misery.” 

“Aw, and did none of your little friends want you?” Peter crooned. 

Stiles looked away, but humiliation soured in his gut. It did nothing to diminish his erection, and he wished it would’ve. 

“It’s alright, darling. I am more than happy to help.” The smile on his face offered no comfort, but Stiles pulsed in his pants, and when Peter slid a thigh between Stiles’ legs, he couldn’t stop himself. “That’s it, that’s a good boy. You just get another orgasm out.” 

“I don’t want it.” Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to know his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t lie to himself and also lie about lying to himself. “I don’t want you! I don’t want it, I don’t like it, please, just, leave me alone.” His head lolled back against the tree. 

Peter licked across his jaw. “I don’t care whether you like it or not. Just take it. Besides, you’ll like it when I’m finished with you. I’m more than proficient, I promise you. But don’t take my word for it. I’ll prove it. I’m going to make you come in ways you never knew you could.” 

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, whatever you say, Pops. Like a middle-aged werewolf could keep up with a nineteen year old under the sway of an incubus.” 

Peter hummed. “A daddy kink, hmm? Don’t try to deny it,” he added as a flush worked its way up Stiles’ face, “I can smell it all over you. Go ahead. Say it.” 

Jaw clamped shut, Stiles turned his head away, but Peter rearranged him until their hips slotted together. “Say it, Stiles. Look at you, wet, needy, your boxers full of cum, you know you want to say it. If you do, I’ll give you a treat. Cross my heart.” 

“And hope to die? Because I really--” Stiles broke off when Peter took his mouth in a...he couldn’t call it a kiss. It was biting and savage and there was nothing tender about it. 

“You don’t. Say it, and I’ll reward you.” Claws pricked through his shorts, and then the sound of fabric ripping met his ears. A breeze wafted across his ass. “I’ll make it so good.” 

Stiles whimpered when the very tip of one claw threatened the cleft between his cheeks, running up and down in ticklish designs. “Please.” 

“Please, what?” Peter closed his teeth delicately around Stiles’ earlobe and tugged. He growled, pleased when Stiles bared his neck more blatantly. 

“Please...Daddy.” Icy-hot shame ran from his head to his toes, stopping in the middle to make him even harder than he’d been before. 

It must be the incubus’s fault. Right? Right. 

“That’s my good boy. Now, I promised you a reward.” With a savage grin, Peter tore the already ruined shorts and boxers away, leaving him in just his shirt and his flannel, the tails of his overshirt twisting in the air. 

Instead of putting him down, Peter lifted him up, and up, and with the tree behind and Peter in front, Peter took his dick deep into his throat all at once. 

Stiles screamed, the warm-hot-wet suction of Peter’s mouth so incredible, so overwhelming, that it took maybe three seconds before he shot his load down Peter’s throat. He would’ve flailed, but fear of falling held him still, so he scrabbled at Peter’s neck, leaving deep pink lines that disappeared as quickly as he made them. 

“Now, what do we say when someone gives us something nice?” Peter let him back down, but pressed him into the damn tree again. Stiles wondered if his feet were ever going to feel the earth again. 

He rolled his eyes. “What-the-fuck-ever. Thanks. I guess.” 

Peter’s eyes flared, and he snarled, “We both know that you wanted this, so stop being a brat.”

“No!” Stiles started to squirm, trying to get down, away, something. 

Peter just laughed again, this time sounding rougher, more threatening. He had no trouble holding Stiles in place. “If you struggle, I’ll tie your hands; if you scream, I will gag you. With my cock, if need be. You have nowhere to go. I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied. Until we’re _both_ satisfied.” 

He got right up in Stiles’ face. “It’s been awhile, and I have a lot of pent up...frustration to work out. And you’ve always smelled so good, baby.” 

His dick pressed into the softness of Peter’s shirt, leaking precum all over it, and Stiles pouted a bit. “Don’t wanna.” 

“Aw, I know. You don’t have to. I’ll have you again and again until I’m done with you, understand? Just say you understand, and I will give you all the pleasure your little body can handle.” Peter’s voice was low and soothing, a disorienting juxtaposition from his words. 

“I-I understand.” Stiles shouted when a harsh smack landed on his ass. “I understand!” Another smack, another yelp. “Daddy! I understand, _Daddy_!” 

“There we go! That’s my boy. I’m going to set you down, and I want you to turn and stick out your bottom for me. Got it?” Peter met his gaze, waited for his nod. “Out loud, sweetheart.” 

“Yes, Daddy, got it.” He wasn’t forgetting that again. Though the fading burn of the spanking spread pleasantly through him, when nothing but air touched his sore, swollen cock, he whined. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Just stay quiet and pop that pretty ass out for me. You’ll like this.” Peter chuckled, and when Stiles did as he was bid, he spread Stiles’ cheeks. 

Stiles hugged the tree as more tears slipped from his eyes. He was so exposed, and as much as he told himself he didn’t want this…

Every thought flew from his mind when wet heat swiped across his rim. “Fuck!” 

“We’ll get there, just let me do this first,” Peter said, and then he dove in, sucking on Stiles’ hole, taking it into his mouth. Soon something made its way inside, something slippery and long, squirmy and pointed, driving into him over and over again. 

Even with everything else, it was so dirty, so perverse, and he couldn’t stop the way his come dribbled onto the forest floor. But Peter didn’t stop, not until Stiles was sobbing against the tree. 

“I love seeing you like this.” Peter shredded Stiles’ shirts until he stood there, bare and defeated. 

“Please, don’t...no more.” Stiles sniffled and rubbed his damp cheek against the rough bark. All went quiet except for faint rustling behind him, and he felt a stab of hope. Maybe Peter had mercy left in him somewhere. 

Leaves crunched behind him, much too close for comfort. Stiles tensed at the hot press of Peter’s bare skin as the other man surrounded him with muscular arms and let his hands wander every available inch of Stiles he could reach. Well, _almost_ every available inch.

“See, your mouth says that, but your body, your heartbeat, they tell a different story. Your sweet little cock here--” he took Stiles’ still-hard cock in hand and squeezed, once, twice-- “says you want more.” 

The firm length of Peter’s cock wedged deep in the cleft of Stiles’ cheeks, splitting him apart even though it wasn’t even in him yet. The tip left a cool, sticky spot at the base of Stiles’ spine, and frigid prickles of trepidation skittered across his skin. 

“Incubus, Pet-Daddy, it’s the incubus.” He didn’t want this, really he didn’t. He’d never imagined Peter crawling through his window and taking him in his bed. He’d never imagined letting the man bite him and running with him as a wolf. He’d never, ever ridden that special toy he’d bought months ago while he begged Peter to stop, not to knot him, not to go that deep. 

No, he’d never done any of that. He’d never admit it. 

“You are such a little _liar_ ,” Peter accused with a fond laugh. “You’re lucky I like that about you. I will make you come. I’ll take you over and over until you spread your legs when you see me, no matter where you are. Deep down you want this, and you know it.” Peter rubbed his cock against Stiles’ pulsing hole. “So I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to knot yo--oh, you like that idea, do you?” 

Stiles whined and shook, unable to move or deny it. 

“I won’t make you say it right now. Your body spills more truths than your mouth does anyway.” And with that, he positioned the head of his cock at Stiles’ entrance and pushed in steadily. 

“No, no, no, _hurts_ ,” Stiles cried, tears and snot and dirt on his face, but he couldn’t keep himself from backing onto the intrusion. 

“I know, I know, but you’re alright,” Peter crooned. “Just take it. You have no choice here but to open and accept me. And look, see, you’re already fucking back against me. You must’ve been starving for this. Keep crying, my darling. You’re so beautiful when you cry. Give in, now, let go for Daddy. Let it go.” 

Stiles sobbed, but nodded obediently. “Yeah, Daddy, okay, okay, fuck, yes Daddy, please,” he begged, his body a rush of endorphins. Peter held him up now and drove into him, deeper and deeper. 

“I watched you, ” Peter confessed as Stiles pulsed around him. “I saw through your window. Saw all the dirty things you did. Heard the filthy things you said. The way you moaned my name.” Peter licked a stripe across Stiles’ shoulder. “Stroke yourself, sweet boy. Stroke that pretty cock for me. I want to see you to come again.” 

Stiles gave a few pulls, and it didn’t take much before he came, dry this time and no wonder. It hurt a little bit, but in the best way.

“Good boy. I’m going to come inside of you, and I’m going to stay in here. Wolves have knots, you see.” Peter scraped his teeth in stinging lines across the back of Stiles’ neck. “You’ll be mine, and everyone will know it. They’ll be able to smell it on you.” 

A small noise of protest escaped him, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it anymore. Peter pistoned into him, harder and harder, using his body with brutal thrusts but oddly tender hands. And when Peter began to swell, the base of his cock catching at Stiles’ rim over and over until it was firmly trapped inside of him, another orgasm flickered to life to match the beating pulse of the knot. 

It was like having an out of body experience. He couldn’t feel himself breathing, or the tree he was propped against, could only feel how the boundary between Peter’s body and his own blurred. 

He gave a despairing wail when Peter pressed deeper, when that firm knot rapped against his prostate enough to send strands of cum dripping to the forest floor. 

“Fuck, I can’t, can’t--” There was the oddest sensation of Peter filling him up, so much that he didn’t just feel stretched, he felt _full_ of cum, the liquid pressure of it completely new. 

“Of course you can. You are. Because I’m telling you to.” Peter blanketed him from behind and traced ticklish designs along the vee of his hips as Peter kept up a slow, grinding roll. 

As time stretched out, he didn’t even feel the tree anymore. It was just his full belly, his stretched rim, the bulk of Peter draped along his body. Nothing else. He wasn’t even Stiles anymore, just a conduit for lust, a receptacle for sex. Nothing more. 

“Shh, shh, you’re doing so well,” Peter whispered. Stiles thought he heard someone sobbing, and then tasted the bitter salt of his own tears. A sharp pain in the curve of his neck, hot and pointed, brought Stiles out of his haze. “Mine. All mine. Always wanted you. You know that, don’t you, clever boy?” 

Ignoring the question seemed best, but then a sharp thrust from Peter spurred one out. “Yes! Yes, Daddy, I knew. I know. You...you asked, once.” 

“That’s right. I was polite and I asked. I accepted your no. Then.” The pinch of a nibble at his earlobe made Stiles twitch. “But I didn’t forget about you. Couldn’t have if I wanted to. And now I have you, just as I always knew I would.” 

Stiles groaned. “Done complimenting yourself yet?” The words were tinged with disdain, but Stiles couldn’t keep from meeting Peter’s thrusts as the knot began to deflate, the desire that had seemed to finally be dying down roaring through his veins anew. 

Peter laughed. “For claiming you after all this time? I will always be proud to call you mine, little one.” The knot hadn’t completely shrunk, but it was half the size it had been, and now it just barely caught Stiles’ hole as Peter rocked into him, using his own cum as lube. 

The squelching, wet sound of it did something to Stiles, and he came. He knew he couldn’t come again, his balls were so empty they _burned_ , but his whole body seized, awash in a shameful pleasure that made him scream and cry. 

Peter shouted, whether because he was coming again or from the sheer joy of having brought his prey to ground, Stiles wasn’t sure. Probably both. The way his fingers dug into Stiles’ hips, he was sure that he could study the whorls of Peter’s handprints, etched as they were in broken capillaries and tender flesh. 

Something inside of him was pleased by that, and when he collapsed into the tree, Peter heavy against him, Stiles decided to just go with it. It was done, it had happened, this whatever it was. Magic induced screwing, he supposed. 

Peter’s dick slid free with a slick noise, and Stiles winced. He was so sensitive, and he clenched around nothing. It felt wrong to be so empty. It felt like he would never be full again, now that he knew how it could be. Adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, Stiles shut down. 

Limbs noodle-like and completely uncooperative, Stiles didn’t protest when Peter laid him on the forest floor. But he did get a little worried when the werewolf propped him on his knees. 

Hot. Wet. Mouth. Tongue, slick and flicking and how the hell-- “Peter!” Stiles shouted, hands scrabbling at leaves. A wicked smack corrected him. “Daddy! Wha-what are you--why?” 

Peter didn’t stop until Stiles was a sobbing wreck on the ground. The air was chilly against his overheated skin. The chuckle from overhead told him Peter was standing. 

Whirring gears and tell-tale clicking caught his attention and he turned his head toward the sounds, bleary-eyed and attempting to focus. Another click. And another. And another. The bright light of a camera flash. 

Peter hummed. “Very nice, darling. This will serve me quite well as a reminder. I expect you to spend every vacation day your university affords you here, with me. And Stiles?” 

Stiles grunted, staring up at the naked man, and waited, silent. 

“If you don’t return...I will come for you.” Peter kissed him on the forehead, then covered him with a blanket he’d gotten from god-only-knew-where. “ That’s a promise.” 

When he could stand without his knees buckling, Stiles made his way home slowly. Carefully. No one came looking for him. No one was waiting for him at home. In the shower, he propped himself against the tiled wall and reached back. He was tender, but didn’t seem injured. There wasn’t any blood, at least. Except for the bite which hadn’t healed, and the bruises that bloomed reddish-purple across his skin. He felt Peter’s hands on him again and shivered. 

Curiosity made him wonder what would happen if he disobeyed. Stiles wiped the steam from the mirror, and smirked at all the marks. “Come and get me, Daddy. Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on [Tumblr](http://denaceleste.tumblr.com) and/or [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/denaceleste)!
> 
> Join us in Fandom Hell on Discord by clicking [here](https://discord.gg/7Sa4b4D)! (Once there, check out the #read-me channel at the top to guide you on your road to Fandom Hell!)


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